


Maven

by StarlitSky



Series: Follow Me Back Home [7]
Category: Biker Mice From Mars
Genre: AO3 exclusive, Big Fat Liar Alert, Birth, Continuation, Family, Friendship, Gen, Not really a T rating but we'll play it safe, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 03:05:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11546175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlitSky/pseuds/StarlitSky
Summary: So, when I finished After AIM I announced that I was done with these characters, and done with BMFM as a whole due to running out of ideas and the writing going stale. I am, apparently, a big fat liar. It would seem that, as long as events that either happen "off screen" or after the entirety of the Follow Me Back Home series still exist in my head, a one-shot or two is still going to pop out of me once in a while. I make no promises one way or the other.Moved this one under my old psued to avoid any confusion. Anything posted under Charlotte Jane Christie is completely unrelated to any of my old works.





	Maven

**Author's Note:**

> An expansion of one of the events mentioned in the final "chapter" of After AIM. I'm still rustier than a decrepit gate, so go easy, please.

After eighteen years of being a parent, it took Carbine a long time to adjust to her only child moving out of the house. But now, almost five years after Saber got married and started taking care of a household of his own, she decided she liked this. She liked having the place to themselves--she and her husband. Thanks to getting pregnant a little before their wedding, living alone with the one she loved wasn't something she got to enjoy for very long.

Life alone with Poison was wonderful. With no responsibilities other than the jobs they did to keep Neothera running smoothly, they did what they wanted, when they wanted to, be it taking a lengthy trip topside, off planet, or just lazing around at home for days on end. Not that either of them could stand being idle. They both kept strict tabs on activity happening on the surface, Poison with his bike and she with her special birthday gift.

It was everything Carbine could want at this stage of her life, and she wouldn't change a single thing. This thought passed sleepily through her mind one morning, as she opened her eyes, yawned, and rolled over to smile at her husband. Poison was already up (somehow, he almost always woke up before she did), and lounging at her side with his head propped on his palm, as if he'd been patiently waiting for her to open her eyes. "Morning, Boss."

Smirking, Carbine started to prop herself on her elbow, planning to edge closer and give him his good morning kiss--and then she felt it. That clenching, turning over sensation in her stomach that had her bolting out of bed and into the bathroom, hand clamped over her mouth as she gagged.

She was still there, kneeling on the bathroom floor with her forehead propped on the edge of the toilet, when Poison crept up behind her. His bare feet didn't make a sound, but she'd lived with him long enough to know he was there even before she felt his hands on her hair. He gently smoothed it back from her shoulders and held it safely at the base of her neck. But she was done...and not in the mood.

"Don't start."

He didn't have to say anything for her to know what he was thinking. But he ignored her command--something he didn't do often. Only when he believed something he wanted her to do--or not do--was what was best for her. It was the one and only thing about him that kept her from saying he was completely perfect. It was a habit made all the more annoying by the fact that, in the end, he was always proven right. Always.

"This is the third morning in a row. It doesn't just happen."

"I said _don't start_."

Carbine pushed herself up with a grunt; Poison let go of her hair, though he ran his fingers through the length of it as she tried to steady herself. When the dizziness passed, she felt perfectly normal again. More than strong enough to pull herself straight and march briskly to the kitchen, where she started on breakfast. Without so much as a whisper of sound, Poison followed at her heels, though he didn't enter the kitchen. Silent as a shadow, he stood in the doorway, watching her. Carbine found herself wishing he'd start helping her or take a hike.

He did neither, and she could feel the weight of his gaze as she darted around the kitchen, grabbing dishes and ingredients almost at random. It set her teeth on edge, how persistent his stare was. She could feel the pressure of it almost as tangibly as a hand, pushing harder, harder. It got to the point where she couldn't take it anymore.

With unnecessary force, she put a bowl down and spun. "I am _not_ pregnant."

Poison's expression was calm, almost bland. "I never said that you were."

"We've been married for twenty years. You didn't have to say it."

Her husband merely shrugged, expression not changing...except for a slight lift to one corner of his mouth. Carbine knew she was overreacting, but she bristled like an angry cat just the same.

His behavior hadn't changed a bit in twenty years. His movements, his actions, his mannerisms were exactly the same as they were the day they met. The casually arched brows, the narrowed eye, the knowing smirks...they never differed. At times those mannerisms made her feel happy and loved. At others, they got her so riled she wanted to jump him where he stood. And at others...they made her so irritated she felt like throwing something.

The mannerisms didn't change, but the context did. Context was the key.

"Don't give me that look. For once you're wrong. You think I don't know my own body?"

If she had been talking to any other male she'd ever known, the response would have been annoyance that matched her own, or something sarcastic--like was she _sure_ he didn't know her body as well as she did?--but no. Not from Poison. Never from Poison.

"Okay, Boss," he said mildly, "what do you think is going on with your body that has you puking every morning?"

His tone made her bristle even more. Like he was one step ahead of her, and he was going to wait as long it took for her to catch up. To Carbine, the sable rat's unfailing patience was both his best and worst trait. Again, context was key.

"Does it even matter?" she asked, knowing that sounded lame and not caring. "It's probably just something I ate. It'll pass."

And as she knew he wouldn't, Poison didn't press the issue. He let the whole matter drop--verbally, at least. His lone yellow eye kept silent watch over her, that eternal patience of his running full force, as she continued to be sick off and on for the next few weeks. But, just like she said it would, it passed.

After that it became easier to argue about it. Not that Poison said another word on the matter, and he never argued with her. Not in twenty years, not when she knew she was being unreasonable and deserved to be chewed out, did he ever argue with her, or so much as raise his voice.

It amazed her sometimes. How she could be so aggravated by someone, while at the same time love them so desperately it hurt.

Because he didn't need to say a thing. She knew from the quiet look that never left his eye for a second that he was watching. Watching and waiting for more signs--or at least what he thought were signs. For the most part she ignored that look--until something odd happened and the look became more intense. Then she would rattle out an excuse and forget about it. Until something else odd happened and the look intensified again. A cycle that kept repeating week after week.

Her main excuse was her age. She was forty-nine years old, and that was too old to be having another baby. And while yes, Martian females had longer reproductive years than other races, and yes, she was still in great shape, that wasn't going to last forever, or so she said one day to explain the pain in her lower back. The sudden swelling and tenderness of her breasts. And the uptick in her appetite, she decided, was due to her being extra active lately--which was on account of the weight she suddenly found herself putting on.

As far as she was concerned, the noticeable but ultimately inconsequential weight gain was her biggest proof. All she did was get a little doughy around the middle, a little puffy at the hips, which she blamed on riding in the skies instead of getting around on foot. And when the puffiness decreased but didn't completely disappear when she boosted her workout, the blame shifted back to her age.

"I mean, seriously, if I was pregnant, I'd be huge by now."

Months had already passed since this silent standoff with her husband first began, and Carbine felt it had gone on long enough to start joking about it. So, while having lunch at Slingshot's with her three closest friends, she laughingly explained the whole situation.

Their reactions weren't what she was expecting. Ashlin didn't comment as she absently stirred her drink, while Charley merely nodded before shoving a forkful of salad into her mouth. After clearing her throat, Tamerin spoke up.

"There's a chance he could be right, you know."

Carbine shot her a dark look. "No, there isn't. Haven't you been listening?"

Shrugging, the snow-skinned Imeeran shifted her fork around her plate, eyes distant. "I've heard stories on Earth," she said quietly. "Sometimes a woman just doesn't get the symptoms she thinks she'd get. Or, she's so stubborn she doesn't recognize them for what they are."

Her abalone eyes shifted in Carbine's direction as she said this. "Either way, it isn't unheard of for someone to be pregnant and not realize it."

Carbine scoffed and pushed her unfinished lunch away. "That's just crazy. If it were true, I'd be at least five months pregnant by now. It's impossible for me not to know. And did you really just call me stubborn? You? _You_?"

Tamerin smiled innocently. "Has Poison mentioned your moodiness? Because it's getting pretty intense."

"Well, excuse me for not being as perfectly even-tempered as you."

Instead of taking the bait, the ex-general continued to smile as she leaned over--and gave Carbine's stomach a quick pat. "Don't worry, kiddo, she'll figure it out."

She pulled her hand away quickly, and a good thing, too. Carbine was ready to slap it as hard as she could.

Across the table, Ashlin suddenly sat up straighter, eyebrows lifting expectantly. Tamerin met her gaze and gave a small nod. Looking satisfied, Ashlin went back to eating. Carbine glared at them both, but neither said a word. Charley excused herself and went to the restroom. Carbine shoved her chair back and stood. 

"I'm going home."

The pair at the table only nodded, but the former general had a feeling they were going to say plenty as soon as she was gone. Carbine didn't care. All she had to do was wait it out. In another few months, she could declare that if she were pregnant, she would have given birth by now, so everyone could just shut the hell up already.

Poison wasn't the only one who could be patient. After a while she stopped pointing out the obvious or making excuses, instead mimicking her husband with a silent, knowing look of her own. She'd be proven right in the end. He would see.

* * *

Their daily routines continued as usual, the two of them patrolling the surface, checking security in the tunnels, and late at night, after work was done, they made passionate love together. Being annoyed with Poison didn't dull her desire for him.

It was after a particularly pleasant day, capped off with a particularly passion-filled night, that Carbine found herself lying awake. She was stretched out on her stomach at Poison's side, watching the peaceful look on his face as he dreamed, the way his chest slowly rose and fell as he breathed. She looked for no reason other than she felt like looking at him. Looked at the way his sable-black fur gleamed even in the faint light of the candles burning in their bedroom, admired how the contours of his muscles were plainly visible through the fur's thickness, sculpted and perfect.

She was absently tracing the shape of his abs, light as a feather, when she suddenly felt it. That funny twinge she'd been feeling in her lower right side for the last few days, off and on. Soft and fluttery, like a bird's wing. A jumpy nerve, she'd decided, probably on account of the extra physical exertion she'd been putting herself through lately.

Unconcerned, Carbine ignored the sensation as she rolled out of bed and tiptoed to the bathroom. The fluttery feeling persisted, tickling at her side while she took a moment to use the toilet and then freshen up at the sink. Nose wrinkled, the former general turned and faced the full-length mirror tacked next to the towel bar. She looked her nude form over from head to toe, noting the broadness of her shoulders, the definition in her arms and legs. She made sure she kept herself in top shape, and she was pleased to note that, what with the small dusting of gray in her otherwise dark hair, most people had a hard time believing she was almost fifty.

The only part of her that wasn't slim and toned was that persistent ring of doughiness still clinging to her midsection. There was no denying she was getting pretty thick--but was it the large, round middle of a mother-to-be? Hardly.

Smirking at the idea, Carbine pressed both hands to her flabby middle, the right one settling over the spot where that fluttery sensation zeroed in at. She unconsciously pressed harder than she meant to...and felt the sensation again. That twinge. That small, jumpy nerve.

Only with her hand pressed there, it didn't feel like a jumpy nerve. Like one tiny spot of her muscle was contracting rapidly. Instead, it felt like something pushing outward. Like something small, gentle yet firm, was pushing at her fingers from somewhere inside of her.

Time stopped. Everything else in the universe ceased to exist. All that mattered in that moment was the feeling just underneath her hand, soft but persistent. Pushing. Kicking. Waiting for the chance to be out in the world.

When awareness of the universe suddenly returned, Carbine found herself staring at her own face. She didn't look like herself. Her face looked too young, her eyes too round. Too amazed. Nothing about her body felt right. Her heart was pounding, yet she felt almost cold. She couldn't feel the floor beneath her feet as she turned and left the bathroom.

Back in the bedroom, she mutely crawled across the bed and knelt beside her husband, still sleeping. Still unaware of the conclusion she'd just come to. She tried poking him, and when he didn't respond, she pinched his nose. Despite his size, Poison never snored, but cutting off his air mid-breath made him snort. His lone eye cracked open.

"You win," said Carbine, as he blinked in sleepy confusion. "I wave the white flag."

Her husband continued to blink at her, gorgeous even when he was puzzled. With a weak smile, Carbine gently took his large hand and pressed it over her middle. She watched, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, as realization bloomed and grew in his eye.

Confirming that he'd been right all along--just like always--didn't change anything. Poison stayed as silent as he'd been all these months of unspoken argument, pulling her into his arms and cradling her close without a word.

No words were needed. She could tell by the way he rocked her, stroking her hair and kissing her face, that she'd just made his night. He was brimming with a happiness he'd probably been hiding all this time, and now that he didn't have to keep it bottled up anymore, it spilled out through his touch, his kisses.

Carbine couldn't say she felt happy just yet. She couldn't say she was unhappy, either. She couldn't say how she felt, period.

"You don't mind?" she heard herself ask--stupidly, since he was obviously thrilled. "We've only had a few years of freedom. Now we're facing at least another eighteen years of being Mommy and Daddy."

"I know. And I love it. I love my life with you. I love being your husband. And I love being a father to our children. This is a gift and I'm going to enjoy every second of it."

Carbine merely nodded, still too numb to decide anything one way or the other. But Poison understood, and he continued to hold her wordlessly, rocking her through the confusion that worked its way through her. Held her tight as her heart alternately dropped and soared, and tears of joy and confusion welled in her eyes.

Because it was Poison, she let her emotions run freely, let herself experience everything those feelings brought her. No one else ever saw her in this kind of state. No one else was allowed to.

Eventually Carbine fell asleep, and when she woke up the next morning, there was a rolling cart topped with a magazine-ready breakfast parked next to the bed. The spot beside her was empty, but she could hear movement in another part of the house as she sat up and started eating. Not from Poison, of course. He never made a sound when he moved. But he was doing something that was making sounds like something being dragged across the floor. Like furniture moving.

Despite her curiosity, Carbine didn't get out of bed until she finished breakfast, and then she had to make a pit-stop in the bathroom. Finally, she grabbed a robe and tracked the sounds to the living room. Where she found her husband parked in the middle of the floor, sofa shoved out of the way so he could work. He was busy assembling a new crib.

The rest of the room was packed with things he'd already assembled, or things that were ready for use straight out of the box. Never one for nostalgia, Carbine had given away almost all of Saber's old things as soon as he outgrew them, so virtually everything was brand new.

Carbine scanned the length of the room and back again. "Have you been buying stuff all this time?"

Her husband looked up to give her a quiet smile. A smile that said 'someone had to.' "Babies need a lot of stuff," he said simply.

His wife nodded mutely, her throat suddenly tight. This was all happening so fast, it left her reeling. But it wouldn't be, she reminded herself. Not if you hadn't been so damn stubborn.

She chose not to waste any more time by beating herself up over it. Instead, she chose to turn to the ones she knew would do everything they could to help her through this. She wasn't too proud to go to them and admit she'd been wrong, knowing that the response would be cries of congratulations and loving hugs.

Ashlin hugged her first, squeezing her so tight they both got misty-eyed. Charley hugged her next, gently, and Tamerin, knowing that too much contact and fawning got on her nerves, finished off with a squeeze to her shoulder.

After the moment passed, and the four of them headed out to do what they'd gotten together to do--shop for baby clothes--Carbine noticed an exchange of sly glances between the willowy Imeeran and the petite Martian trotting at her side. It reminded her of that uncomfortable lunch they had together a while ago.

Carbine eyed Tamerin. "You knew. For sure, I mean."

Tamerin smiled. "You were too mad to believe me at the time. But even if they're too small to have real emotions, babies still carry a presence. I felt it when I touched your stomach."

Thinking back to how long ago that day was already made guilt well up inside her. Because if Tamerin _had_ told her, and Carbine _had_ believed her, then she could have spent all the time since then loving her baby, instead of pretending her baby didn't exist.

Because she _did_ love her baby. Underneath all the feelings of confusion, worry, guilt, excitement, and being overwhelmed, she loved her baby with all her might. It was like her heart had been patiently waiting, ever since her son grew up and moved out, for the chance to love a tiny life that depended on her for everything again. Waiting for a precious little one to rock in her arms, to sing to sleep, to cradle close and just feel their little heart beating.

Imagining what lay in her future had Carbine stopping in her tracks, that overwhelming feeling of excited disbelief washing over her and making her catch her breath. Her hand automatically clutched at her stomach--her small, vaguely doughy stomach. Was her belly so small because her baby was small? Maybe even too small? Was her baby strong? Healthy? Was her baby in need of special care?

Her shopping companions noticed her sudden pause and eyed her with concern. "I changed my mind," Carbine told them, voice strong despite the quiver in her heart. "I want to visit the hospital first. Baby clothes can wait."

She blamed not thinking of that before now on being out of practice. But really, after being pregnant for so long without a single doctor visit, that should have been the first thought to enter her head.

Given how much time had passed, the former general decided to do things right--and that meant a quick transport to Malteria, and a walk to the Imeeran Undercity hospital for the most thorough exam possible. She was soon lying on an exam table, complete with a drafty hospital gown. Suspended over the equipment next to the nearby monitor was a digital 3D image of her unborn child.

"Your assumption was correct," the doctor told her--a canary-yellow male she didn't know. "Your baby is extra small, but perfectly proportioned and developed for this stage of growth. There's no sign of anomalies or defects."

Carbine nodded mutely, her eyes glued to the artificial image, but still very real reflection of her child. It was like looking at her husband--if her husband were bald, chubby, only a few inches long, and completely adorable.

"We're just about six months along," the doctor went on. "And while it looks like you've been eating well, there are some signs of undernourishment, probably because you haven't been consuming things with enough nutrition. I can create a menu for you of foods that will give both you and the baby a healthy boost of vitamins, minerals, and calories from now until birth--but it'll probably make you put on a few pounds in a hurry," he added with a grin.

"That's fine," Carbine said softly, tracing the shape of her baby with her eyes. "Whatever I have to do to take care of her."

She said the word without thinking about it. As soon as it slipped out, her heart skipped a beat. "I'm right, aren't I? It's "her"?"

"You don't want to keep that a surprise?"

"I'm six months pregnant and only doing something about it now. No more surprises."

The doctor grinned again. "It's a her."

A girl, Carbine thought to herself. The 3D image took on new meaning. She was looking at her baby girl, her unborn daughter. A daughter who was the very image of her father.

Throat suddenly tight, the former general changed her mind about going shopping right now, and when she left the hospital and told her three best friends, they understood completely. After a quick transport back to Mars, she hurried down to Neothera and rushed home. When she got there, she heard what had become a familiar sound in the last few days: the sounds of furniture being put together.

Only instead of the living room, Carbine tracked the noise to Saber's old bedroom. It had been put to different use in the last few years, but now, those changes had been swept away and a brand new nursery had taken shape in record time. Poison was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, attaching runners to the bottom of a rocking chair. He looked up from his work with a smile. "Finished shopping already?"

"I didn't go," she told him. "I took a trip to the hospital instead."

Curious now, Poison set the unfinished rocker aside and studied her. "And?"

"And...everything's fine. Just fine. And I found out what we're having."

Carbine expected her husband to get excited, or at least study her even more curiously, expectantly, as he waited for her to state the gender. Instead, he calmly stood up and strode over to the new baby dresser, where he slid open the top drawer. As Carbine watched, he withdrew something and unfolded it before turning around, holding it up for her to see.

It was a tiny satin dress, colored rose red and trimmed with white lace. Carbine felt her eyebrows lift to her scalp. "You knew?"

The smile Poison gave her was soft--and pleased. "I hoped."

Carbine moved closer and took the dress from him, smoothing it in her hands and easily imagining their baby girl wearing it after she was born--probably right after they brought her home from the hospital and showed her off for the first time.

And then she imagined just how long Poison must have been hoping quietly to himself. Hoping and planning and readying all these things, and waiting for the day she finally stopped being a stubborn jackass and he was able to bring out everything he'd been up to all these months. Her throat went tight again.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Poison returned the dress to the drawer and took her hands. "Don't be," he said firmly.

She shook her head, her eyes squinting as tears threatened to spill out. "I feel so guilty. You had to keep silent about everything for months. We should have been doing this together. You shouldn't have had to keep all this from me, and--"

Her husband pressed a finger to her mouth. "Don't," he repeated. "I knew you'd realize in time."

"But I almost didn't," Carbine went on relentlessly. "We have two months at the most. I'm so damn stubborn I could have stayed in denial until I was in labor."

"You didn't," the sable rat said mildly. "And don't you dare feel guilty about anything that makes you who you are. Not when I love every last thing about you."

She might have said more--stubborn as ever--but he stopped that possibility with a firm kiss. He then pulled her into his arms, gathering her close and tight to his chest as one hand came up to rest on her hair. Carbine let herself settle against him, reveling in his warmth, the sound of his heart as it beat steadily against her cheek. Her eyes drifted closed, though that didn't stop the threatening tears from starting to fall.

She didn't care. She didn't even bother to blame it on hormones. She let the moment be exactly what it was; her breaking down in her husband's arms as she experienced the guilt of her actions for the last few months. The joy and excitement of what the future held for them both. The hopeful anxiety for the day their baby girl was born.

When the moment passed and her eyes were dry again, Carbine found herself standing with her back against her husband, his strong arms wrapped around her from behind and his broad hands pressed to her stomach. The roundness was small as ever, but he cupped the shape of her belly just the same.

And for an instant she found herself standing in another place and time. A night over twenty years ago, when the one who wasn't quite her husband yet held her in the exact same way. That night she retired with a brand new life ready, waiting, and spread out neatly at her feet.

Blinking the image away, Carbine twisted her head to look at Poison. She could tell by the distant look in his yellow eye that he was remembering that night, too.

Amazed, Carbine shook her head with a chuckle. "Look at us. It's twenty years later, yet it's like nothing's changed."

And Poison, being Poison, cradled his head against hers and said the best thing he could possibly say. "Wouldn't have it any other way, Boss."

* * *

In the weeks that followed, there wasn't a whole lot they had to prepare, since her husband had been secretly getting everything ready all this time. And with memories of parenthood that were apparently fresher in his mind than they were in hers, he continued to bring things home without being asked--even things she'd forgotten they might need.

News traveled fast, and before long their family and friends started gifting them with even more. Saber was an adorable combination of shocked and thrilled to know he was going to be a big brother--and a little saddened, too. He and Joy didn't say a word, but a mother could tell. Carbine could see the quiet pain in both their eyes. Thank goodness Joy worked at an orphanage. If ever the urge to have children of their own grew too much for them, doing something about it would be easy.

Carbine made sure she heaped love and gratitude on them both--and then, finally, she had her day out shopping with the rest of the girls. Having had a boy, and having been as un-girly as they came when she herself was young, buying clothes draped in ribbons and lace was a completely new experience. Charley had raised a baby girl, but Tamerin had raised two, and the second one was still small. Which, Carbine guessed, was why she was so enthusiastic about shoving every pretty, frilly thing she could find into Carbine's hands.

"Aww," she cooed, "these look just like the ones I got for Thea."

She held up a pair of lacy white bloomers, designed to stretch over the bulkiness of a diaper. Carbine wrinkled her nose at it.

"Just so you know, my baby girl is going to be as big of a badass as her parents. Bigger, maybe."

"Just because she's going to grow up to be a badass doesn't mean she can't enjoy being a pretty baby," Tamerin said smoothly.

Ashlin and Joy had wandered to another part of the store, while Charley was watching quietly as Tamerin firmly placed the bloomers--and a set of ribbon headbands--into Carbine's basket. It was subtle, but Carbine still noticed the hint of wistfulness in the human's eyes.

"You and Vinnie ever think about having one more?" she asked slyly.

Charley gave a start. "Us? No--well, yes. Not recently. We talked about it off and on, years ago, when Joy was still small. We even tried a couple of times, but..."

She gave a shrug. "Too late now. I've been getting all the signs the last few years, and they're getting worse, so that means I'll be experiencing the fun of menopause pretty soon."

Her green eyes turned skyward melodramatically, while Carbine frowned with sympathy. It was different for them, but Martian females had to deal with their reproductive systems shutting down, too. Not that Carbine had to worry about that right now. Obviously.

Hand pressed to her subtly round middle, her eyes suddenly tracked and locked on Tamerin, who had migrated to a display of glossy baby dress shoes. "How 'bout you?" Carbine asked...though she was pretty sure she already knew the answer.

The snow-skinned Imeeran looked up from a pair of pink shoes with silver buckles innocently. "Me?"

Carbine rolled her eyes and gave her a 'I _know_ you were listening' look. At least she had the decency to look sheepish.

"No part of our bodies shut down unless we're dead, so...no. We never lose the ability to have children."

"Must be nice," Charley said dryly, "having cells that don't wear out. Or skin that droops. Or boobs that sag. You don't even wear a bra."

Tamerin didn't deny it. Carbine found herself eyeing the muscular female's eternally pert, perky chest. She breathed a sigh. "You make it really hard to not hate you sometimes."

"I know."

* * *

In the end, two months proved to be more than enough time to make what little preparations were left. With nothing left now but to put everything to use, the remaining weeks were spent in eager anticipation. Carbine spent a lot of her nights sitting up instead of sleeping, hands cradling her belly and just enjoying the feel of her baby kick.

One night in particular, while she was propped against her husband's arm, a thought struck her.

"We don't have a name picked out yet."

She glanced sidelong at Poison, who was busy reading a thick novel. He'd already done so much on his own, she'd be awfully surprised if...

Mouth quirking slightly, the sable rat turned a page. "Maven."

Carbine blinked once, expecting a rush of other names to flood her mind. Instead, there was only a sense of contentment. Of completion.

Poison drifted his eye from the page and rested his gaze on her face. It was clear he was waiting for at least one other suggestion, but Carbine merely smiled and rested her cheek on his arm.

The yellow eye watched her questioningly, but Carbine's only response was to lazily drift her fingertips up and down his forearm. After a moment, Poison closed the novel and placed his hand over hers. "Have I ever told you, Boss, that I love you?"

Moisture pooled in her eyes as she smiled again. "Every day, Poison. Every single day."

It was early the following morning when her water broke. She'd just finished breakfast (in bed, of course) and was shuffling her way to the bathroom when she heard a sound like droplets hitting the carpet, and looked back to see she'd left a wet trail.

"Uh, Poison?"

No further words were needed. Her husband came swooping out of nowhere, as if he'd heard something in her voice or sensed a change in the air. Strong and silent, he lifted her in his arms and brought her straight to the hospital.

The hospital in Neothera. Which was a nice enough place, but...she was much more familiar with the one in Brimstone. Heck, she knew the doctors and nurses on Malteria better than she did the ones here.

It wasn't a big deal--the doctors in Neothera were kind and capable--but the lack of friendly faces put an edge under her feelings of excitement and hope. She didn't say a word, but, once she was tucked in bed and hooked up to monitors, Poison pressed a hand to her cheek.

"Ashlin is here visiting Nitro."

He didn't say more, and he didn't need to. Carbine felt the bulk of her tension ease away. "Thank you," she whispered.

Her husband got up from her bedside and darted out of the room. He came back a little while later, in no more time than it would take to race to Nitro's place and back. Ashlin trotted in at his heels and immediately rushed to her side, sinking to her knees and gripping her hand.

Poison rounded the bed and took her other hand. And that was how her second child came into the world. With her beloved husband on one side and her best friend on the other. Ashlin was well known in Neothera but worked at the hospital in Brimstone, not here, so she didn't try to volunteer her services. But just having her nearby, and knowing that she was capable of handling any problem that came up, drove away any anxiety she might have felt that day.

There were no problems. Not a single one of all the possible complications that could happen showed up. Labor was long, but bearable. All Carbine had to do was hold the hands clutching her own so tightly, and push.

Even if Maven hadn't been as small and thin as she was, her delivery would still have been infinitely easier than Saber's. Carbine couldn't believe how quickly her daughter was out in the world, how soon she was wrapped in a blanket and placed in her arms. How tiny and fragile-sounding her little cry was.

The love she experienced, however, was exactly what she expected. It roiled in her until she was choking back tears, and quivering as she kissed her daughter's sweet face. Ashlin cried openly, sharing her joy until it was too much to keep in. Sniffling, Carbine cradled her baby girl in one arm while she reached out with the other, hooking the small Martian around the shoulders and pulling her close. "I love you," she murmured in Ashlin's ear.

When she settled back against the pillows again, Poison perched himself on the edge of the bed and put his arm around her. His large hand rested gently on their daughter's blanket, his fingertips delicately tracing the shape of her face, her tiny fists.

She looked so much like him, Carbine would have thought the other half of her parentage wasn't evident at all...except for the minuscule pair of antennas poking out of her scalp.

She was even more perfect than Carbine had been imagining, and it was with impatient excitement that she waited out the next few days, until the doctor cleared them to go home. Because even if their names and faces were known by many who lived down here, rules about who was and wasn't allowed to set foot in Neothera, or even have a vague idea where it was located, were very strict.

As a result, the only ones who got to see Maven before she left the hospital were Saber and Joy. Which, in the end, suited Carbine just fine. There was something amazing about seeing her only son hold his new sibling for the first time, watching the joy and wonder play across his face. Saber held babies all the time, but this was different. This was his own baby sister, and his eyes misted as he cradled her.

"So," said Joy, her tone playful, "how does it feel to lose only child status at your age?"

Saber let out a laugh. "It feels great," he decided, kissing Maven's soft, furless cheek. "It's wonderful."

That was how Carbine felt, too. Sure, she was tired, and sore, and she would probably be seventy by the time this kid moved out, but she didn't care. Being a mother again felt so wonderful, the first few weeks of Maven's life were dreamy and surreal.

She came home in the tiny satin dress, and as soon as she was strong enough to take the trip, Carbine and Poison brought her topside to meet everyone else. Being a newborn, Maven slept while the rest of them had a quiet celebration. There were more gifts, more congratulations, and plenty of laughter and love. A perfect afternoon.

At one point, Carbine found herself standing at her husband's side, who set his drink down to put an arm around her and pull her close. The former general settled against his side. "Ready to do this all over again?" she asked lazily.

Poison smiled, drawing his large hand over her hair, making her feel more relaxed and sleepy than she already did. "You know it, Boss."

Smile softening, he brought his other hand to her face and lifted her chin, his lone eye locking with hers. "You've always been the best part of me. You make me so happy I could never put it into words."

Her gaze drifted to the others, still celebrating, and to her son and his wife, who were watching over their still sleeping sister/sister-in-law. A deep warmth, familiar and powerful, swept over her heart. Her arm went tightly around her husband. "You don't have to."

_~Fin~_

**Author's Note:**

> I'd say that's a wrap, but I worked on this series for years before the first entry was posted, and worked on it for years after that, so there are still a lot of ideas and scenes that never made the "final cut". Sooooo, we'll see.


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